


Eros and Psyche, Reunited

by Abarero



Series: The Daring Adventures of the Elusive Vermilion Rose [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Chapter 14.5 of The Elusive Vermilion Rose basically, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Touch-Starved Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 22:16:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16669357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abarero/pseuds/Abarero
Summary: Okay, so this is a oneshot "extra" chapter forThe Elusive Vermilion Roseand probably won't make much sense if you haven't read that first. Consider this Chapter 14.5 if you will.





	Eros and Psyche, Reunited

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Elusive Vermilion Rose](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16158239) by [Abarero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abarero/pseuds/Abarero). 



> Okay, so this is a oneshot "extra" chapter for [The Elusive Vermilion Rose]() and probably won't make much sense if you haven't read that first. Consider this Chapter 14.5 if you will.

It was a small little shop in the heart of Sigrosk, only made somewhat homier by the fact that having so much fabric in any place made Yuuri feel infinitely calmer than usual; for the place was cold, definitely not enough space for any more than two people, and obviously uncared for in previous years.

 

But, all he needed it for was this week. As a tailor, it served as a last minute supply of dresses and suits to those of the Larussian elite who were scrambling to come up with a  _ new _ outfit in less than a week; for Yuuri had enough premade embroidered panels that only required a fitting before he could sew them into a completed garment. And as Eros, it gave him a safe place that wasn’t the Daydream, where countless sailors and merchants at the docks could see Victor coming and going, for them to meet at night. It also meant he could furnish a better bed than his aboard the ship for Victor, who was doing much better probably because Yuuri spent every single second worrying about his injury; a worry that at least was proving useful as it made his fingers twice as fast and his focus on his work even more intense than usual. 

 

It was a way to forget the bigger picture and honestly, Yuuri  _ needed _ to forget that before all his worries tangled up into a knot unable to be dealt with by sewing his way through it.

 

What he hadn’t expected was Victor.

 

He’d come as soon as he was able to, surely, for it was barely past dinner when the soft knock echoed on the doorframe. Yuuri quickly crossed the tiny room to reach it and smiled brightly when he realized it was him.

 

“Hey, you’re kind of earl…”

 

Victor’s hand had darted out, a fingertip settling over Yuuri’s lips, and he blinked up at him in askance. Had he been followed? Was there something wrong?

 

“Are you alone?” Victor asked and Yuuri could feel the slight tremble through the fingertip.

 

He nodded and the finger retreated; Victor stepping forward now to close the space between them.

 

“I know I probably look like a wreck because the last two days have been hell, but Yuuri. I don’t want to talk about it. Not now.”

 

“What do you need then, Victor?”

 

It was a simple question, but one that Victor clearly wasn’t expecting and it took him a moment to process it; his hands undoing the clasp at his cloak’s neck and tossing it to the floor by the doorway without a care.

 

“You.”

 

The door swung closed behind him and Victor moved swiftly; whirling Yuuri until his back hit the nearest wall, Victor pressed against him like even the tiniest bit of space between them must be erased. His lips insistent, desperate,  _ yearning _ in way they’d never been any of the previous times, hot and open against Yuuri’s mouth. He was a man drowning who had finally been granted some air, Victor kissing in deep gasps like he couldn’t get enough. 

 

“Victor…” Yuuri breathed out, his arms finally finding their way around him. “Is everything okay?”

 

Like a thread pulled too thin and finally snapped, the tension in Victor’s body was suddenly gone; the press of his body urgently, impossibly, even closer than it had been before.

 

“ _ I need you. _ ”

 

The words spilt from his lips, his blue eyes raw and unguarded in a way Yuuri had never quite seen before.  _ Desperate. Pleading. Wanting. _

 

There were no masks now. None of cloth. None of those thousands upon thousands of masks they’d worn before everyone else in the world, invisible but weighing upon them in ways that had damaged what was already broken beneath.

 

“ _ I need you _ .”

 

Victor grew still, only the sharp rise and fall of his breathing now, his eyes somehow bluer than they’ve ever been before.

 

And Yuuri knew, much like a delicate organza, this was one stitch he could not have the slightest error in or it would ruin the beautiful fabric stretched between them. As much as he wanted to ask after Victor’s worries, as much as he knew something had driven Victor into his arms like this and wanted to know what it was so he could erase the pain it was causing, Yuuri knew that was not what Victor needed.

 

He needed Yuuri. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just Yuuri.

 

“I’m already yours.”

 

The realization seemed to wash over him, frantic desperation turning to relief and fondness and he sagged against Yuuri as if the remaining tension had finally come undone.

 

“Tell me what you need, Victor,” Yuuri said after a pause, finding his voice a bit thick and rough. 

 

The tension grew taut again in Victor’s shoulders, in the curl of his spine, and Yuuri moved his hands up to press against it like a balm. And almost so imperceptibly, that had he not been so close it would have been impossible to notice, Yuuri could feel the slight tremor in the grip of Victor’s hand against his shoulder.

 

No masks. He realized suddenly how terrifying the idea was, how difficult it must be for someone like Victor, who’d had to survive behind so many masks, to rip those away. One by one by one until nothing was left but Victor bared. Truly.

 

As much as the night before Limisa had torn many of those away, there had still been more between them than that silk ribbon over Yuuri’s face. They didn’t know then what they knew now. Didn’t realize how broken the beautiful person before them really was until they’d finally found the courage to face that truth together. 

 

“Victor,” Yuuri steadied his voice and asked him once more, “tell me what you need.”

 

“I... “ Victor paused and took a shuddering breath. Yuuri clutched him tighter. 

 

There was a subtle shift at that and suddenly Victor pulled back just enough that their eyes could meet, blue shimmering bright like lacquered gold in the cracks of a teacup. 

 

He breathed out his words like a prayer, as if he was but letting his racing thoughts tumble free from his lips unhindered. 

 

“I need you. I need your touch.  _ Everywhere. _ I need to feel your love upon every inch of my skin until its branded there never to fade. I need… to feel loved. For who I really am. Because it has been far too long since I had anyone to do so and even one day apart has made me terrified I’ll never have it again.”

 

No masks. Not a single solitary one was left. 

 

“Victor Nikiforov,” Yuuri began, using that name that had become but a symbol of a family that was no more. He reached up, cradling Victor’s face in his hands and held his eyes steady and firm. “Will you let me show you my love?”

 

“ _ Yes _ .”

 

Yuuri kissed him, slow and sweet, as his hands slid down until they captured Victor’s own; and when they parted he began to pull Victor towards the bedroom with a gentle smile settling onto his lips. They barely made it to the doorway before Victor drew him in and began kissing him again; urgently now, as if even those minimal steps from door to bedroom had been too much time apart.

 

He let Victor lead, let Victor take what he needs of reassurance in those moments before they’ve tumbled back onto the bed; his hands so fisted in Yuuri’s clothes that it felt strange when he pulled them away, running his palms down the front of Yuuri’s waistcoat beseechingly.

 

Even Yuuri was breathing heavily by now, the slide of his thighs around Victor’s as he settled into his lap not helping the matter any, and they both paused wanting for air; Victor reached up for the top button, but Yuuri caught his hand and stopped him.

 

“Let me,” he murmured, pulling the hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss upon it. “This is about you, remember?”

 

Something dark and rich and  _ royal _ flickered in the depths of Victor’s eyes at the words.

 

Countless people had waited upon Victor because they must. Never had someone offered out of love to do the same.

 

Victor sprawled back upon the sheets, arms up beside his head as if to show that he was willing to oblige. 

 

These weren’t the silk sheets of the palace, no red damask or cream draperies; but Yuuri’s elite merchant income was enough to at least secure a feather bed and a sturdy wood frame of the Amorican style, the quilt made of satin and linen remnants left over from garments Yuuri had made. 

 

With Victor upon them, it was as if they’d been turned rich and royal simply by his presence; the finest of silks as a centerpiece in the form of a man.

 

Yuuri was suddenly very thankful he’d shed his cloak already, for underneath Victor only had a simple waistcoat in addition to his shirt and breeches; and as he began to slowly undo each button, feeling the racing of Victor’s heart beneath his fingertips, it hit him all at once that this was because of him. 

 

Like an ornate weave that only needed but one thread plucked before it unraveled in Yuuri’s hands, Victor came undone easily at his touch. 

 

Victor’s muscles strained, ever so slightly, to push themselves up against his fingertips; seeking even the most minute contact between them. And with waistcoat parted and Yuuri’s hands now smoothing down his shirt, there was a slight intake of breath once more at just that, the simplest smallest touch. The slower Yuuri moved, the more it seemed to make Victor react.

 

Last time had been fast, hurried movements borne of passion driving them hurtling forward towards their goal; what Victor needed now was not that. He needed something that would linger upon his silken skin, slow and meticulously painted there like embroidery one stitch- one  _ touch _ \- at a time.

 

He was wearing a common man’s clothing, the shirt of rougher linen than his royal attire and buttoned down the front without a hint of lacing or ruffles. Yuuri started at the top button, undoing it slowly, sliding his thumb against the small expanse of skin that it revealed before darting it back over to the next button; an invisible chainstitch in the little loop of his fingertip. 

 

Victor’s breath hitched at each brush against his skin and by the time Yuuri reached the last few buttons above his waist, they’d become outright gasps; and instead of yanking the tuckled shirt tails from his breeches, Yuuri slid a finger down below the waistband and plucked the fabric free one pinch at a time.

 

As the shirt splayed open at last, revealing the sharp rise and fall of Victor’s chest, Yuuri thought that even with the stitched up wound marring otherwise perfect skin, he looked like a porcelain doll; skin so pale in the moonlit room that it glowed like the luster of a pearl.

 

No, that wasn’t right. He was a fine Dupioni, the scar now like a natural part of the weave, intrinsic to the overall beauty of the final silk; part of the cocoon of courage it was woven from, strong and lustrous. An outward sign of the beautiful brave heart underneath.

 

Yuuri leaned forward, his hair trailing over Victor’s bared skin, as he gently pressed a flutter of kisses over the red thread he’d stitched there, Victor’s body arching up to meet each one.

 

“ _ Yuuri. _ ”

 

He drew back from the last kiss, right over that telling little KY he’d stitched out of habit, and flickered his eyes up to Victor’s face; his heart suddenly too tight and full with the amount of adoration and love written in Victor’s expression.

 

Heavily flushed, like a sheer overlay of pink chiffon upon his cheeks, with eyes shining like sapphires, Victor was completely unraveled; open and wantonly looking up at Yuuri like he’d never needed anything in the world more than his touch.

 

Yuuri reached out a hand, brushing fingertips ghostly light across the heat of Victor’s cheek; the color of them only growing darker as he did. Shyly he turned and pressed a kiss to the inside of Yuuri’s wrist and Yuuri felt it like a pin in his heart, holding him in place.

 

Searching Victor’s gaze while brushing silver strands of hair away from his eyes, Yuuri tried to ask him all that he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud; all his worries and doubts starting to build up in his mind. And somehow, Victor knew; his features growing even softer as he reached up as best as he could, his shirt and waistcoat still hanging loose around his elbows.

 

“I need  _ you _ , Yuuri Katsuki,” he whispered like a devotion, his lips coming to hover over Yuuri’s as his hands clutched at his neck. “Skilled tailor, brave hero,  _ all of you _ .”

 

He melted into his arms, their lips pressing together like an answer; Yuuri’s heart pinned right through to Victor’s heart.

 

They drifted apart and Yuuri met his eyes, pouring his soul into his words.

 

“And I  _ need you _ , just as you are.”

 

The words settled behind blue and they rippled a moment with tears too prideful to be shed.

 

Yuuri smiled, warm and bright and honest, and clutched his face in his hands.

 

“ _My_ _Victor,_ who is so sweet and loving and _brave_.”

 

The shine spilt over, a glistening tear slipping down against his cheek like a shimmering thread that Yuuri brushed aside with his thumb; Victor gasped out a quiet laugh, another tear following the first, before he looped his arms around Yuuri’s neck and pulled himself up against him.

 

Minutes upon minutes ticked past, the two of them just soaking in each other’s warmth, the cadence of their breathing steadying until they eventually breathed as one. Finally, so quiet Yuuri almost couldn’t hear it over his heart, Victor murmured into his hair.

 

“ _ I need to feel you _ .”

 

Yuuri trembled, the words pooling in his gut as his skin suddenly felt too warm; and Victor’s words continued, whispers that trailed down along his neck even quieter than before.

 

“Make love to me, Yuuri.” 

 

Like a sword drawn, he instinctively moved to react before the plea could even truly register; his palm feeling hot against Victor’s chest as he pushed him back down against the bed, his lips answering with an open mouthed kiss in lieu of words.

 

Even the graze of his tongue against the roof of Victor’s mouth made him gasp, that breathy little hitch that seemed to accompany every touch Yuuri made upon him. Fingers, tongue, lips- it didn’t matter which he used and Victor would press back into him seeking out more of that same touch. 

 

Twenty-seven years and how long had it been since someone had loved him for who he was? It hurt Yuuri’s heart to even think about it, but the answer came unbidden all the same. Seventeen. It had been seventeen years since his mother had died. No wonder he was so starved for affection; he’d spent over half his life without something it was clear he needed as much as air.

 

He trailed his fingers from where he’d pressed Victor’s hand above his head into the sheets, pausing only to unclasp the button at his wrist before running it over the ruched fabric further down his arm, gathering it into his grasp and starting to tug it up and off. There’s a soft little noise of protest as he pulled back from their kiss, hot breaths clouding together between them while Yuuri tried to think enough to maneuver the other sleeves up and off; he kissed Victor once more before sitting back, realizing he’d have to move away from him a moment in order to get the rest of the clothing free.

 

When Yuuri shifted, his legs somewhat shaky with nerves as he found the floor again, there was an unmistakable whine from Victor’s throat for that all too long second when he was not touching him at all; Victor’s legs bent at the knees and dangling still over the edge of the bed. Yuuri dropped to his knees quickly, hands rubbing down the silk stockings that were perhaps the only royal attire still upon him, before curling under the heel of his shoe and sliding it off as delicately as if it were glass.

 

He mimicked the same on his other leg, then leaned in and began to roll his stockings down; pressing chaste little kisses to each inch of skin as it was exposed, Victor’s legs trembling by the time he reached his ankles. As Yuuri staggered back up to his feet, he felt excessively overdressed suddenly on looking down to find Victor bared of everything but his breeches.

 

For this, he moved quickly, not wanting to leave Victor without his touch for more than he must; his shoes and stockings joining Victor’s on the floor, his waistcoat and shirt hastily tugged free to fall somewhere beside them.

 

Yuuri’s thoughts pricked into his mind one after another, worry and nervousness being stitched over with that same rush of emotion that swelled in his chest when he was rushing headlong into danger; each little detail noted and considered and addressed, his mind easily laying out a plan clearly in his mind that would achieve his goal in the fastest amount of time.

 

As he walked to the side of the bed, he could see Victor’s eyes following him, an unspoken plea in them calling out and waiting desperately to be heard.  _ Come back. Don’t go. _

 

He moved swiftly, sliding his arms underneath Victor until he was carrying him much like he did out of the river; the memory making him pause but one moment to press a gentle kiss to Victor’s forehead as he did then. Yuuri laid him down softly, making sure he didn’t jostle too much as he was brought back down to the bed’s surface; his hair spilling across the pillows and his legs no longer hanging over the edge. He took off his glasses and settled them on the nightstand.

 

If he was going to do this, he was going to do it properly; no haphazard stitches, no letting himself forget to  _ think _ first. 

 

Yuuri returned to the end of the bed, hiking his knees up over the bottom rail there and nestling them alongside Victor’s legs once more; then crawling up over him until he could lean down and kiss him again, Victor surging up into his touch that had been gone for far too long.

 

Smiling now, Yuuri slowly traced the freckles that stood out just barely upon his shoulders, Victor’s fair skin having not taken kindly to Apulian summers; and he trailed his fingertip between them like a thread, stitching them into beautiful flowers and ornate curls that soon began to trail down his chest. 

 

By the time his fingers reached Victor’s sides, he had begun to squirm; but Yuuri refrained from asking if he was ticklish, just this once, occupying his mouth instead by curling his tongue around the shell of Victor’s ear and earning a sharp jerk in reaction.

 

At that, he could no longer hold back.

 

“Ticklish?” he asked teasingly, letting his tongue sweep down the pale column of Victor’s neck.

 

Victor had no chance to find his words, for Yuuri had turned tongue to teeth, little nips now sweeping back up until right beneath his ear where he gently bit; and despite Yuuri worrying he’d perhaps gotten  _ too _ carried away, he was rewarded with Victor’s sharp gasp and his arms clutching at him desperately.

 

Yuuri, still worried, had to ask. 

 

“Sorry, was that…”

 

He pulled back, ready to search Victor’s eyes for a sign, but was confronted instead with Victor’s cheeks painted scarlet, blush cascading over bridge of his nose and outward to the tips of his ears. Victor swallowed. Hard.

 

“Was that okay?” Yuuri stammered out.

 

Victor nodded, swallowed once more, and finally found his voice.

 

“I did ask for your brand upon my skin, didn’t I?”

 

His voice was light, teasing, albeit a bit husky and thick.

 

This time, Yuuri suspected it was his face that had gone a matching scarlet; even the tips of his ears feeling too warm just like his face.

 

They sat at this impasse, both slowly becoming aware of their own bodies; the sharp rise and fall of their chests, their breeches suddenly too snug, the pounding of their heart beats mingling into one. When they next moved, it was together; both far too aware of all the space between them and desperate to erase it. 

 

Yuuri’s fingers slid into Victor’s hair, drawing him into a kiss as naturally as he drew breath; and Victor’s hands gripped at his hips, pulling him down until they were both gasping into their kiss at the friction it created.

 

There was too much fabric in the way, Yuuri decided immediately; his kisses beginning to trail down Victor’s chest as he ran his fingertips like ribbons down his sides. Even now, each touch, each kiss, was met with a reaction; Victor’s breath coming in staccato bursts, his body shifting ever so slightly in response to each and every one.

 

Perhaps that’s where the rush of daring came from, suddenly clouding his mind like a strong drink, his embarrassment left to linger in the back of his thoughts while his actions were six steps ahead of them.

 

Six buttons, precisely, on Victor’s breeches. And Yuuri undid them with his teeth; the thrill of it settling in his gut, pleasant and warm as Victor made an unspeakable noise in the back of his throat and jerked into it seeking  _ more _ .

 

It fanned the fire, stoking it higher and higher, every single worry and doubt scorched away; his hands grasping fistfuls of fabric and tugging it down, the thin linen of Victor’s drawers hiding nothing and already damp. The thrill coiled deep inside his chest at that, knowing that he had not even touched him there yet and he’s already…

 

“Yuuri,  _ please _ .”

 

It was a mixture of a whine and a moan, breathy and desperate and  _ wanting _ ; blue eyes heavy and lidded and piercing,  _ pleading  _ now without a single word more. The gaze was magnetic and Yuuri fumbled off his own breeches before moving up to lay beside Victor; coaxing him to roll until they were facing each other.

 

“Hey, you doing okay?”

 

He laid his hand gently against Victor’s chest, right over the stitches, and he could feel how Victor’s breathing was elevated. Problem was, Yuuri had no way to know if it was due to his injury without asking him.

 

That dark blue gaze shifted, fondness taking place of fervent desire, and Yuuri had a feeling his own eyes might look the same; desperately and hopelessly in love. 

 

“Just… let me catch my breath a little. I can’t tell if it's that or it’s because you’re exceedingly skilled with your hands.”

 

Yuuri knew his face had to go pink at that. “V-Victor!”

 

“And your lips,” he continued, reaching out to run his thumb across them. “And teeth.”

 

At that he tapped Yuuri on the nose and it earned him a breathy and embarrassed laugh. 

 

It fell silent a moment, the two of them just smiling softly at one another and lazily carding their fingers through each other’s hair; it was a quiet that felt connected somehow, both of them passing thousands of affectionate words between them without a single word needed.

 

Finally, Victor dipped his head a little, his cheeks dusting pink. 

 

“Thank you, for… tonight. I’m already feeling much better.”

 

“I’m glad.”

 

“And Yuuri?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Next time, I’m going to return the favor. Because you deserve to feel this loved too.”

 

The words  _ next time _ reverberated like a heartbeat inside him and Yuuri nodded because he wasn’t certain of his words; why even the  _ idea  _ of Victor treating him like _ that  _ made his chest ache with a love too big to be contained within.

 

“I… I’d like that,” he admitted after gathering his nerve. 

 

They smiled at one another, suddenly aware of the heat between them that had begun to simmer. Even like this, Yuuri’s fingers tracing the shell of Victor’s ear absently and Victor’s hand smoothing down Yuuri’s chest, there was something burning beneath their skin; a deep down desire to be closer,  _ closer still, _ for wherever their skin met it sparked alive like lightning that’s itching to strike.

 

Victor let out a huff, sounding equally frustrated and amused. “My father would absolutely hate you.”

 

Yuuri blinked. While he’d had a gut feeling that Victor’s mood had something to do with his father, he hadn’t expected Victor to bring the matter up like this.

 

“That’s a good thing, by the way,” he added with a wry smile. “Everything I love my father hates.”

 

“Victor…”

 

He leaned his head down, resting it against Yuuri’s shoulder and sighed heavily, frustration now mixing with something heavier that Yuuri recognized all too well.

 

_ He’s panicking internally and he’s trying to make light of it so he can convince himself it’s okay. _

 

Yuuri couldn’t even get himself out of that downward spiral, so trying to figure out what to do for Victor was even harder. But Victor needed  _ something. _

 

_ I need you _ .

 

The words echoed in Yuuri’s mind. That was what Victor had asked for, again and again. Yuuri took a steadying breath and tightened his arms around Victor’s back. It was a crazy idea, really, but he’d been surviving for weeks on ideas just as crazy as this.

 

“Do you know what he’d really hate then?” Yuuri asked, hoping his tone was light enough.

 

It must've been, for there was the tiniest curl of Victor’s lips upwards; just there at the corner and so slight he would have never noticed it if he wasn’t this close.

 

“What?” and Victor’s tone seemed a bit lighter too.

 

He pushed Victor onto his back, rolling on top of him as smoothly as he could manage; and he knew there was probably that tell-tale twinkle in his eyes that Phichit claimed he always got when he was up to something. Yuuri licked his lips and tried to let that confidence of Eros settle into his bones.

 

“He’d really hate the fact I’m about to do something utterly unspeakable to you.”

 

Victor threw an arm dramatically across his forehead as if he was swooning and he was clearly fighting back a smile as he replied faux-melodramatically.

 

“Oh my! Are you going to ravish me, darling? He’d really  _ really _ hate that.”

 

“I am. And it’ll be so good that you’ll not be able to think of anything else but me for  _ days _ .”

 

He fluttered his eyelashes as daintily as Psyche would. “Oh Mr. Katsuki, you know exactly what I need.”

 

Yuuri settled a hand over his chest, eyes flickering up to ask an unspoken question. Victor nodded. For all of a moment, he’d caught his breath. 

 

_ I suppose it’s up to me to make you breathless again, hmm? _

 

And although his dual sided mind had differing opinions on whether that was extremely embarrassing or incredibly smooth, he boldly said it aloud anyway and brought a deep blush to stain Victor’s cheeks.

 

Just like every other time his impulsiveness won him a surprise victory, his courage surged with it and for one brief moment, Yuuri thought he might actually be able to live up to that claim; sliding his hand the rest of the way down Victor’s chest before slipping it under the waistband of Victor’s drawers and grabbing hold. 

 

Victor gasped, bucking up into his hand; the whine in the back of his throat only growing as Yuuri trailed fingers from base to tip before rubbing his thumb across the slit. He swore something in Larussian and Yuuri had to fight back a soft laugh.

 

The skin was already a bit slick from before and made the slide of his hands,  _ his very skilled hands thank you very much _ , even easier; he knew where each rough callus was on his hands from years of working with them and knew how to use them to rub and  _ push _ and press and  _ caress _ in a way that would drive you wild.

 

If the sounds Victor was making were any indication, it was definitely working for him at least.

 

“ _ Yuuri, darling…”  _ he was practically panting out his words as he delicately touched his arm; whispering as if somewhat embarrassed by his situation. “If you don’t stop I’m not going to make it much farther.”

 

Yuuri could feel the heat in his own cheeks at that and a shy smile tugged at his lips as he realized what Victor was asking for, pulling his hand away.

 

“You want to come with me?”

 

Somehow, once the words were out of his mouth, he became all the more embarrassed by them. 

 

Victor managed a shy smile in return, whispering now even quieter than before. “ _ Please? _ I want you inside me.”

 

The words jolted right through Yuuri like lightning, racing from his chest right down into his groin, and he was pretty sure it was him that made the low guttural noise just now too. There was once more too much fabric in the way, even if all they had each was a scrap of linen that was not hiding or holding in much; and Yuuri managed to remove both the offending pieces in a record amount of time.

 

Brain catching up with him, it snagged on a problem, and he tried his best to remember all the unasked for tips about bedding another man that the samurai he knew had shared with him over the years; and thankfully now that he was in a situation where it was necessary, they did have some good advice.

 

With that practised speed that had parried many a blade, he moved off the bed and went up to fuss with the pillows; stacking the few he had in a pile and helping Victor slide up until he was nestled well in them. The meaning behind his actions must have dawned on him because Victor’s cheeks burned pink once more.

 

“Is that going to be enough you think? I could go get some excess fabric if…”

 

He was rambling out of nervous habit and thankfully Victor must have seen the flicker of panic in his eyes because he reached over and took his hand, giving a squeeze.

 

“I think we’re going to have to be a bit gentle for awhile, so this should suffice.”

 

Yuuri’s mind latched onto the implications there, the  _ for awhile _ making his stomach bubbly with a giddy brew of happiness, and he turned to get his rosemary oil that he used for his hands when they were aching off of the nightstand. 

 

He settled next to Victor on the bed, just seated beside him, and smiled down at him; finally finding himself unable to keep his hands to himself any longer and reaching out to sweep Victor’s bangs aside before placing his hand upon his cheek.

 

“Let me know if anything hurts, okay? You are injured after all and I don’t even know if we should be doing this, but it’s what you need so we’re just going to…”

 

Yuuri snapped his mouth closed on realizing he’d begun to ramble once more; Victor placed his hand over Yuuri’s and gave a gentle smile.

 

“I trust you. And I promise I’ll tell you if anything seems amiss.”

 

His heart made a decisive thud against his chest at that and Yuuri nodded in reply. 

 

They lingered momentarily, just drinking in the sight of one another; Yuuri’s eyes drifting from his face to trail down the curves of his body appreciatively, Victor’s skin looking all the more beautiful in the dim moonlight.

 

There was a somber curl to Victor’s lips suddenly and he asked softly, almost pleading. 

 

“Yuuri, please. I don’t want to think. I just want to feel.”

 

And  _ oh _ how Yuuri understood that! When he would be upset he’d go sew for hours, not thinking at all, just letting his fingertips take in the textures of the fabrics and threads as comfort. 

 

His hands were on Victor before his worries could hold him back anymore,  _ don’t think, just feel _ , and somehow he fumbled open the bottle, coating his hand well before setting it to the side once more. Victor shifted expectantly, and Yuuri settled between his legs which were now bent up and resting to each side of him. 

 

Yuuri gave Victor a nervous smile and he was grateful to see Victor’s in return was just as nervous. Nervous but… excited.

 

Not wanting to look away, even for a second more, he positioned his hand and moved the first finger down; watching Victor’s face for even the slightest hint of discomfort as he pressed the tip of it in. Victor’s breath caught, his eyes fluttering closed one moment in bliss, before blue and beautiful and shining with something entirely new, Victor’s eyes met his once more.

 

He was absolutely gorgeous like this, Yuuri thought to himself; pale cheeks painted with pink deep as rouge, eyes half-lidded and piercing, the thread between them now with just the perfect tension. And the further Yuuri pushed inside him, the taut muscles easing slowly,  _ surely _ , the more beautiful he became; the thread growing golden and shimmering, drawing them closer and closer.

 

It’s goldwork, Yuuri realized with a hitch of breath. Slowly wrapped golden leaf thread twining between them, Yuuri’s skilled fingertips pushing in and out to make the beautiful embroidery on the outside; and as his second finger slipped in even further, taut giving way to silken and smooth, he felt something shake to his very core. 

 

Nothing in the world felt like this,  _ like Victor _ . There was no silk as smooth as this, no velvet as soft,  _ nothing _ . Only him.  _ Only Victor. _

 

It took a bit of maneuvering, but Yuuri was determined, and as he pressed the third finger in, he leaned up along Victor’s side and pulled him in for a kiss; hot and heavy and breathy, the gasps and whines and moans between them no longer able to be separated into Yuuri’s and Victor’s- just  _ theirs _ .

 

They needed not even a single word, only a look, and Yuuri knew Victor was ready; slick hands gathering more oil to rub down his own length, before settling between Victor’s legs. And as he slowly began to push himself inside, Victor wrapped a leg up over his hip and nudged him forward even more.

 

Slow, gentle, a bit cautious but still like a fond caress softly dancing across skin, they met in the middle. And gods,  _ never _ had anything on Earth ever looked as  _ stunning _ as Victor did in this moment.

 

Yuuri reached down, pressing his free hand against Victor’s cheek, and he could feel the dampness of tears there despite the resplendent smile upon his face; Victor’s arms reaching up until he’d looped them around Yuuri’s neck and pulled him down into his embrace.

 

They didn’t speak for a moment.  _ Don’t think. Just feel.  _ That’s what they needed.

 

“Yuuri,” Victor’s voice was rough, yet somehow still so warm, “stay close to me.”

 

He was unsure how he did it, too caught up in Victor’s eyes to even think that much, but Yuuri rolled them both to the side; ensuring Victor’s injury was now without any undue pressure upon it before moving any more. It must have been exactly what Victor was asking for as well, because he clutched Yuuri closer at that and whispered softly against his lips.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Yuuri kissed him,  _ soft and tender _ , little butterfly kisses all over his face, waiting until Victor’s breathing steadied a little bit before daring to do anything more. 

 

Once more, not a word was needed, not a thought. They could feel each other.  _ Everywhere _ . And it was the most wonderful feeling in the entire world. 

 

_ Just feel _ . Yuuri started out slow, a gentle roll of the hips that Victor matched, then once again. Steady but relaxed and languid, both of them just savoring each and every second and drawing it out even one moment more. 

 

Their lips drifted together, kisses just as lingering and dreamy, and Yuuri could feel Victor’s smile mingling with his own. But even at this pace, their bodies finally began to quicken as if knowing; Victor’s breathy gasps of Yuuri’s name a sound he’d written upon his very soul to remember for the rest of forever.

 

“Victor,  _ love _ ,” he found the words somehow, knowing how much Victor needed to hear them. Especially now.

 

“ _ Yes _ .”

 

“I love you. You’re  _ perfect _ just the way you are and  _ I love you _ .”

 

And never had Victor looked more radiant than this, tears in his eyes as were surely in Yuuri’s own, as he pressed his words against Yuuri’s lips.

 

“ _ I love you too, Yuuri _ .”

 

If it was possible for two human souls to meet, to somehow touch each other, this must be what it felt like; this overwhelming  _ feeling _ , this  _ happiness _ , this sense of  _ completion _ . 

 

It’s  _ everything _ and it’s  _ theirs _ .

 

They both just breathed. Breathed and felt and  _ loved _ .

 

And starry eyed and dazzling, their eyes met, smiles shining brighter than gold. Suddenly Victor’s arms tightened around Yuuri’s neck, a whisper of words feather light against his cheek.

 

“I’m so glad I met you,” Victor murmured. “I’m so glad I now have  _ one _ thing in the world so beautiful and wonderful that can give me the strength bear everything else.”

 

“You were already strong, Victor. All I did was remind you.”

 

Victor leaned back, then tipped his head forward until their foreheads pressed together, and both of them smiled once more, a little lopsidedly because the joy was bubbling out now in little giggles as they just looked and smiled and  _ loved _ . 

 

It felt as if ages had gone past before they parted, even then reluctantly, until Yuuri insisted on getting a cloth from the wash basin; wobbly legged with emotion, not detouring him from making quick work of it so he could nestle himself back into Victor’s arms. 

 

Both of them smiling so much he was certain as his eyelids grew heavy and Victor’s drifted closed that they fall asleep with them still glowing upon their faces.

 

Warm and real and  _ bright. _


End file.
